


Beating Hearts, Bleeding Hands

by orphan_account



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-04
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-02-24 01:25:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2563106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>an·am·ne·sis<br/>ˌanəmˈnēsis/<br/>noun<br/>recollection, in particular.<br/>the remembering of things from a supposed previous existence</p>
<p>
  <strong>indefinite hiatus</strong>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beating Hearts, Bleeding Hands

**Author's Note:**

> remember when i said i would only write happy erejean because i didnt want to see them sad
> 
> remember when that statement went right out the window

an·am·ne·sis

ˌanəmˈnēsis/

_noun_

  1. recollection, in particular.



  * the remembering of things from a supposed previous existence




 

coun·ter·part

ˈkoun(t)ərˌpärt/

_noun_

  1. a person or thing holding a position or performing a function that corresponds to that of another person or thing in another place.




 

 

* * *

 

_Tears filled his eyes as he pointed his sword at the man kneeling in front of him. His head was bowed, staring down at the dirt beneath him. Even at execution he was beautiful, strong jawline clenched tight - in fear or acceptance, Eren didn’t know. He could see the slight shake of the metal in his hand, betraying his hesitation. Willing his hand to steady, he looked up at the captain, silently pleading with him. If Jean was too weak to fight death, Eren would fight for him._

_“What are you waiting for, Jaeger?”_

_Tears spilled over, running streaks down his dirt-smeared cheeks. “Captain, Commander, please-”_

_“The punishment for treason,” Levi said coldly, “is death.”_

_Eren turned back to Jean. He ran his gaze down the unforgiving steel of his blade, down to where his lover kneeled before him. He studied the way the light filtered through the trees, dappling the ground and the skin of Jean’s face. Jean’s eyes were closed, his face turned up to Eren and the sky, and his chest rose and fell shallowly in time with the pounding of Eren’s heart._

_“Just do it, Eren,” he whispered, the words ghosting over his tongue and lips so softly that Eren had to strain his ears in order to make them out. “They’ll kill you too, if you don’t.”_

_“They’ll kill me anyway!” he snapped back, a little louder than he should have judging by the way Levi’s grip on the cannon tensed._

_“You don’t know that.” Jean’s eyes were open now, pleading with Eren just as he had pleaded with the captain._

_“No, I-”_

_“Jaeger.” The command was sharp, spoken with all the force of a military leader. Eren was reminded of how dispensable he was, now that they had exposed his father’s secrets. No longer was he the wild card, the test subject, the boy with all the heart they needed. Now, he was just an unnecessary risk, and one they had to get rid of right away. The choice sat before him: give Jean a clean, painless death, or die together with him under the unforgiving blow of the cannon._

_“Eren, come on. Kill me.”_

_Eren caught his bottom lip between his teeth and bit until he bled, metallic red mixing with salty clear. He nodded._

_“We’ll meet again, suicidal bastard.”_

_Eren’s entire body shook as he raised the sword._

_“I’ll hold you to that, horseface.”_

_The sword came crashing down._

 

* * *

 

Eren’s eyes snapped open at the harsh whine of his alarm, groaning and rolling over. He felt around on his side table until he found his phone and turned off the blaring sound. He gave himself a second to adjust to the sunlight, much harsher than it had been in his dream.

His dream.

Jean had showed up again for some reason. He didn’t remember ever having a dream without Jean in it, actually. He had lived a hundred lives through his nights, joining the Survey Corps or the royal pageantry or even just a boarding school in England, meeting Jean in every life, loving Jean in every life and killing Jean in every life.

_We’ll meet again._

Eren didn’t know what it meant, but hell if he hadn’t tried to find out. The latter part of his high school years had been spent studying up on reincarnation and past life regression, but he still had found no trace of the “Jean” that plagued his nights. Much to his parents’ displeasure, he had scoured social media for hours a day trying to find anyone that fit the face, even if not the name, of his once-lover. He thought he had found him once, in a kid he had gone to high school with, but he had never fit completely.

He remained in a daze as he padded to the bathroom, bare feet slapping softly against the hardwood floor of his apartment. He hadn't lived on his own for very long; he was still adjusting to the silence. His parents didn't live very far away, only about an hour and a half, but it was still odd for him to wake up without the sound of his mother cooking breakfast. She lived this time around, she usually did. She was another one of the constants; then again, almost everyone was. Somehow, Eren had managed to find the same people in every one of his lives. He wasn't sure if that was because of the trauma of their first life, the trauma of living through the titans and the walls and the trauma of facing death together every day with open arms. He supposed that had at least something to do with it.

They were all separated now, though, Eren thought as he brushed his teeth tiredly. He had met them all already, Annie and Mikasa and Connie and Sasha and even Annie, Reiner and Bertholdt. Marco, Ymir and Christa had come in the form of European transfer students, but they were there nonetheless. They had gone through school together, split ways after graduation. The only one who had not returned was Jean. Eren supposed that maybe, maybe Jean wasn't meant to come back this time. Maybe the hints from his past lives were clues, the way Jean seemed to remember less and less about Eren with every reincarnation (though there was always that stunning realization when they first saw each other), even while Eren remembered more and more about him.

Eren wondered if maybe it was a good thing that Jean hadn't returned, if Eren was meant to kill him in this life as well. He couldn't imagine laying a blade to Jean's neck, spearing him with a bayonet like he had done at Gettysburg, pointing a gun to his head like he had done in England in 1916, feeling his tires screech to a halt over his chest like he had done in California in 1959. If he never met Jean, he could never kill him. He supposed it was for the best. This fragile body, this soft boy that had grown up in a quiet Washington suburb, he could never kill.

He dressed in a half-daze, the heavy weight of sleep still not having fully surrendered its hold on his limbs. Jeans on, shirt on, jacket over shirt, socks on feet, shoes on socks. It was a routine he had done every morning for his entire life, but it seemed a little different without his mother chiding him from outside his door for taking too long. Not for the first time since he had moved out two weeks prior, Eren wondered how he was supposed to handle living on his own.

 

* * *

 

The walk to the campus was chilly, and Eren shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his pullover as he made his way down the few blocks to his new school. Orientation wasn’t his usual cup of tea, but he figured it would be better to go and learn his way around the campus before actually starting classes. After all, this wasn’t high school anymore. He wouldn’t be babied by anyone, and he rather preferred it that way.

Eren breathed a sigh of contentment as he slipped into the crowded hall, taking the first seat he saw and relishing the reprieve from the crisp autumn air. The speaker on stage was a stout woman, with her hair pulled back into a tight bun and her suit neatly pressed. She arranged her notes on the single podium, waiting for the last of the students to shuffle awkwardly into the hall. A flash of blonde caught Eren’s eye, and he whipped his head around to get a better look. _He can’t be here, it’s too late to meet him already. Right?_  True to his thoughts, the stranger was not Jean, just some platinum-blonde boy sporting an obnoxiously expensive-looking pair of headphones around his neck. Eren fought back the wave of disappointment.

As the last of the students filed into the hall and took their seats, the speaker on stage cleared her throat and began her presentation.

“As you may know, my name is…”

Her voice was nasally and hoarse, and it wasn’t long before Eren lost focus. He scanned the rows, looking for any shock of ash-blond hair, any sign that Jean might be sitting there, in that room with him. _Do I even want to find him?_ Eren began to tap his thumb incessantly against his kneecap, eyes darting faster and faster around the room. The old woman on stage was relinquishing the microphone now, handing it off to some student who was probably an RA or the head of a club or the student body president or some equally as unimportant position. Eren couldn’t care less. He continued his head search for any sign of Jean, even though he had gone over the entire hall at least twice already.

“Anyway, for anyone that’s staying in the dorms with me, good luck!” Eren looked up to the stage in time to see the student speaking give the audience an exaggerated wink. An RA, Eren figured, starting fresh this year and trying to get the administration on his side. The boy looked up, scanned the crowd with a small smile on his face, locked eyes with Eren for a split second before moving on to the next student.

Eren’s heart dropped.

On stage, microphone in hand and scarf wrapped lazily around his neck, was Jean Kirschtein.

And he hadn’t so much as batted an eyelash at seeing Eren.

 

 


End file.
